The doctor at the hospital discharged me with orders not to get the wound wet or put pressure on it.
The lab booked a room for me in a hostel—on the second floor, so I had no choice but to stay put, reading a stash of novels previous visitors had left behind. Kiss Tomorrow Good-Byeby Horace McCoy, Wanton by Nightby James Clayford, and a real find: Dark Passage, the David Goodis book that had been translated to the silver screen for Bogie and Bacall—and all that was left for me to do was wait for a ship that would take me to Japan, and from there sail home. And I planned to bring that book home with me.
That first night in the hostel, a houseboy brought me up a light supper. I read a few pages while I ate, but I was too uncomfortable to concentrate, so I went to bed. I hadn’t been sleeping well, due mostly to the pain in my leg, and that evening was no exception. My leg throbbed, and I didn’t expect to get much sleep, but…
David
What?
I regret you were injured
Not your fault